Death’s Dip or Confession of a Mattress
FREE mattress. A queen size pillow top
took it home, laid it in the frame
First night—I rolled into a dip
a body shaped dip
on the left side
a person taller than me, wider than me
created a dip that I roll into
a bedridden, sickly person
left a death dip
No problem, I think, I’ll just sleep on the right
every night to even things out
yet, every morning I wake in the dip
My bed, now a metaphorical display
divides my psyche down the middle
The dip is comfortable, soft, form fitting
It feels like a hug in my lonely bed.
It is as comfortable as my father’s depression,
a heavy-known feeling of failure.
My familiar spins tires set on park
This I confess to you:
I sleep with death
and I like it
-SPL
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shannon p. laws 